


Black And Blue

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Category: Ten Inch Hero
Genre: F/M, hangovers, protective!Priestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: You can’t help your feelings for your friend, but maybe some jerk will give you a push in the right direction?





	

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I’m in a Priestly mood. Requested by @jotink78 on tumblr: “How drunk were you last night? / Well, I still have my pants on, so not that drunk? / Those aren’t your pants.” In this one, Priestly and Tish never get together but Pries still hits Tadd and tells Tish that she deserves better.

([x](http://earthquackles.tumblr.com/post/140338794002))

You and the crew watch as he stumbles in way past his shift time, sunglasses on and feet shuffling over the old linoleum floors. His hair barely resembles a mohawk anymore, squished and dented despite the copious amount of product you knew he liked to apply. Piper tries desperately to hide her laugh behind her sketchbook, and all Trucker can do is let his mouth crinkle at the corners as he continues his crossword puzzle.

“Everybody relax!” he shouts, face scrunching at his own volume. “Ugh. I’m here.”

You watch as he shuffles inside and into the back, stuffing his bag haphazardly into one of the lockers. He unrolls his apron, moreso knotting it than really tying it around his waist as he comes to take over the grill from you.

“Hey Pries, how was the rest of the party?” you ask, watching as he shuffles food around the flat top.

He purses his lips a little, “Not as nice without you.”

Guilt cuts through you like a hot knife, upset that you had to leave the party you’d promised to crash with him early. “I’m sorry about that- I really am. If I could have avoided it, you know I would have.” He nods, pouting a little as he cooks.

“How drunk were you last night, Pries?”

“Well, I still have my pants on, so not that drunk?”

You look at him, disbelieving. “Those aren’t your pants,” you point to the salmon-colored dockers he was wearing. Jen erupts into laughter, using Tish to hold herself up as Piper snickers into her sketchpad.

“Uhh, what?” You can’t see his expression behind his sunglasses, so you reach for them, pulling them off before he can snatch them up again.

“Give them back!” He rushes you as you play keepaway, glasses held behind your back as you push a hand to his chest- his almost distractingly muscled chest.

You gape at him though,  _entirely_  distracted by the purpling bruise covering one of his eyes. “Pries, what the _hell?_  What kind of night did you _have?”_

You’re distracted enough that he snags his sunglasses back, but your hand cupping the side of his face stops him dead from putting them back on. He squints at you, eyes a little bloodshot in the afternoon light but still an utterly beautiful shade of green. You inspect the damage, figuring it’d take at least two weeks for the bruising to fade.

“I uh- I just- someone said something I didn’t like,” he confesses. You give him a look. “I know- people say all sorts of stuff about me all the time, but it wasn’t something about me.”

“Well what the hell was worth getting this shiner for?” you ask. Priestly was never one to get physical over anything, really. The only time you’d ever seen him any less than a total teddy bear was when Tadd hit Tish. You’d patched him up at Trucker’s place later that night, telling him how ‘metal’ his cut was. He’d grinned at you then, and you realized you’d fallen for him.

“That dick Randall said you’d be an easy lay.” You stare at Priestly, mouth hanging open at his words. “He was telling everyone who would listen about his so-called ‘escapades’ with you. So I punched him. The lyin’ dickhole had it comin’.”

Everyone in the shop knew Randall- he’d come in repeatedly, each time asking you out. You weren’t too inclined to accept his offer, even moreso after Zo had commented on his awful aura. Time after time he’d come in, the answer to his question always a ‘no’. Seems he’d decided to just trash your reputation after you put your foot down, firmly shutting him down the last time he’d come into the shop.

“You didn’t have to punch him, Pries.” you scold, looking over his face as he flushes a little.

“The dick deserved it,” he mumbles, “and you deserve better than that.”

Your heart squeezes at the earnestness behind his eyes. He’d punched someone. For you. Your heart overpowers your mind, and you lean forward- pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You pull away, noting the bright red that now dusts his cheeks.

“What was that for?” he squeaks.

“That was for being the sweetest guy ever. Also because I kinda like you.” You watch as his hungover brain works through what you said, a wide smile plastered onto his face as he gets it.

“I like you too.”

You grin, grabbing the front of his shirt to press a real kiss to his lips. He stumbles a little, but quickly wraps his arms around you as the shop erupts into hoots and hollers. You love the way he kisses you sweetly, the metal of his lip ring pressing into your bottom lip as he smiles into it. His hand laces into your hair, thumb smoothing over your jaw softly enough to make butterflies appear in your stomach. He smells like the grill, but also like irish spring and as he pulls away you can’t help the silly happiness that colors your face.

“Would you look at that?” Trucker announces. “These two idiots finally figured it out.”


End file.
